Hormone Possessed
by Knottaclue
Summary: Max deals with some internal struggles.


_I had an urge to write this. :) Hope you enjoy it._

Hormone Possessed.

She was aware. It had happened before, every month for the last ten years. But it had never been so strong. She desperately pondered the reasons, looking for a logical explanation, wanting to be able to think the urge away, not wanting to act on it because that would be an absurd thing for her to do.

She wasn't hungry--not for food anyway. She wasn't thirsty. She couldn't concentrate on her work, thoughts always flitting in directions that made her squirm in shameful pleasure. She would glance up, wondering if anyone noticed what she was feeling.

No one did. They all went about their business, glancing, nodding or smiling at her the same way they always did when they passed her.

Not even the men. She had once read a biased study that males, particularly younger ones, could subconsciously detect such things in a woman. Pheromones or something equally nebulous. Stupid study. Was probably dreamed up by some other desperate, fantasizing woman.

Just as well, she thought while shifting in the chair. It wasn't like she deliberately thrust her breasts forward just as Dan Looker walked by. He didn't notice. At least, she didn't notice him noticing. Oh well, he wasn't young either. Had four kids and a wife. Wasn't the type she had in mind.

Wrong body shape; not enough muscle; wrong color hair and eyes; didn't stand straight enough; didn't have that sort of centered, no-nonsense awareness that had a tendency to make people hesitate when they were around him.

No offense meant to Dan, but she preferred a blue-eyed, black-haired taller specimen with broad shoulders tapering to a slimmer waist which curved into small tight buttocks and finished off with longish, muscular legs.

And then there was the certain way this man would smile. It didn't happen often, but when it was directed her way---hoo boy! She had to be very careful not to….

Max hid her face and squirmed as she felt her inner heat rise and her mind suddenly flush with vivid imagination as to what she wanted to do to this particular man. Stifling a moan, she shifted back in her chair, crossed one leg tightly over the other and rode out a tense wave of desire.

Oh Lord! It was getting worse. She didn't want it to get worse. She wanted it to go away!

Go girl! Run to the restroom and splash that cold water on your face and up your nose until you can't breathe and have to cough and hope that'll--

"Max?"

Her heart jerked wildly in her chest at recognizing the voice. Slowly she lifted her head to look up into a pair of concerned blue eyes. "Yes?" she squeaked.

"You all right?"

She uncrossed her legs and sat up straight, "Ah--sure. Just…" She showed him an embarrassed grin and murmured, "Just that time of the month."

He reacted like she hoped he would---uncomfortable with news he could have lived with not knowing. Nodding as if he understood he began backing away, "Oh, um, okay."

He stopped himself and handed her the disk he had been holding in his hand, "Would you go over this proposal--make sure it reads okay?"

"Sure."

&&&&&&&&&

_You can take me any time you like. I'll be around if you think you might. --- Fleetwood Mac_

Considering the condition I was in, I should have been afraid instead of thanking the Maker for the timely breakdown of the batmobile.

Terry needed my help to fix it.

I usually liked helping him this way, even though mechanics weren't among my strong points. I got to work closer to him---physically---without him thinking I _wanted_ to be that close to him.

Mostly I was a tool fetcher. He told me what he wanted and I got it for him. An adjustable wrench was what he was asking for at the moment.

That's when it happened.

We touched.

Accidentally of course. When I was handing him the wrench the back of my hand happened to brush across his thigh. Clumsy me. I met his brief glance with questioning eyes. He went back to work.

A little bit later he needed me to hold an ill-placed clamp steady while he used both of his hands to turn on a section of piping that had to be disconnected. It was a very small area that both of us had to work in and I had no choice but to slide my body against his in order to get my hands where they were needed. Maybe I didn't have to get quite that close, but hey--it was so darn drafty in the cave and I was cold and his body was warm. Who would begrudge me the simple logic of that decision? Terry didn't seem to mind. He looked at me and said, "Can you grab it now?"

"I'd love to," I said while smiling at him, my mind far from focused on the task at hand.

I gripped the clamp for the next seven minutes while he wrestled to free the damaged pipe. My arm muscles burned with the effort to keep the clamp rigid as he tugged and twisted. I barely noticed it though because the rest of my body was being licked by internal flames that were much hotter.

You see, _he_ may have been preoccupied with the job, but I wasn't. I was savoring every tiny move his body was making against mine. Every little jerk he made as he worked, every unintentional belly and chest slide across my skin, every slight roll of his knee over my thighs….the smell of his sweat, the tiny grunts and intermittent mutterings of annoyance …

Everything about him was making me crazy with desire. It took every ounce of determination I possessed to resist crawling on top of him…

No.

No, I could wait until this was finished.

Maybe.

Mission accomplished and we were standing beside the machine, wiping the grime from our hands. My heightened sense of awareness was focused completely on the man in front of me. I suddenly realized with intimate clarity what the term, 'in heat' meant. It stood for total loss of commonsense.

Like a magnet seeking metal my hand reached out to him. A bold palm stroked firmly over his chest and rested there. I smiled at the feel of his heart beating strong beneath. I think it just skipped a beat.

He hid his surprise behind a wry twist of lips, but he couldn't cover a hint of breathlessness, "What are you doing Max?"

"Touching you."

"Ah….yeah. I figured that part out already."

I felt him tense and relax with confusion and indecision. I lifted my hand away, "What's wrong Terr? Don't you want me to touch you?"

"Well…" his expression held boyish innocence and restrained excitement. "I don't mind, but…it's not something you usually do."

"I know." I bowed my head, then looked guiltily at him, "There's something wrong with me."

His brows furrowed with concern as he stared at me, "What…you mean you were passing out or something and used me to steady yourself?"

"No," I grinned. "I'm schway."

"Then why--?"

Some foreign part of me was making me move closer to him. My shoulder touched his and once again my hand reached out without my conscious willing it, to settle lightly on his chest. I let my breasts press against him and replied, my voice dropping into a sultry tone without conscious thought.

"I can't seem to resist you tonight,"

He sucked in a quick breath, his next word coming out at a higher-pitch than was normal for him.

"Whaaat?"

"I'm possessed," I slipped my hand under his shirt and began stroking fingers over the smooth ridges that outlined his ribs and abdomen, exploring the length and depth of each one. I felt a mounting thrill as a shudder ran through his body. I lifted my mouth closer to his, "My hormones. They…they're sort of…raging right now."

"Raging hormones?" He continued to hold himself with rigid uncertainty while letting out a shaky chuckle, "I thought that was a male problem."

"Typical male ignorance," I intoned with a teasing superior air and brought my left hand around to join the right in exploring the contours of the bared torso beneath his shirt. Front and back my fingers made a languid exploration. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed and deepened as I felt the tension draining from him.

"Hmmm…" he murmured, a tiny smile pulling at his lips, "I 'm really…thankful you're taking the time to…enlighten me."

A higher functioning portion of my brain made me freeze my actions. _What was I doing?_

_Well…feeling up a very desirable man of course._

_To what end?_

_Well--duh! If you can't figure that out then maybe you're not as smart as you think._

Moral restriction and propriety won out the moment. I sighed and let my hands fall.

"I'm really sorry about this. I should stop--"

"No!" He grabbed my wrists to keep me from moving away, then let them go immediately, "I mean--please don't stop on my account. If doing this helps you deal with those raging hormones then, I'm willing to endure this--torture."

I grinned and laid my hands on his forearms. He clasped my arms and gave me a ravenous grin in return. There was something in his eyes that--

"McGinnis! Gibson! Do that on your own time!"

Slagg--!

I mean-- thank God for an old man's interference that kept me from doing something I'd end up regretting.

Maybe.

Slagg'in hormones.

Sigh.


End file.
